Title: Three Heartbeats
Category: ANGST
Summary: A mission as viewed by one outside Kritiker
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Last night, his uncle had been murdered. Or more accurately, assassinated. From the carnage left behind, the police had surmised that the culprits had been professionals. Bastards.
If he ever found out who they were, he'd kill off their families members one by one and see how they like it. And then he'd catch them and cover their bodies with papercuts and rub lemon juice and perhaps salt into the wounds. Lemon juice and then maybe leave them in the sun? On a fire ant hill. Ah the wonders of nature and citric acid. Or perhaps he should just lower them into acid, an inch an hour. He supposed it would depend on how much time he had.
The bus he was riding came to a stop. He stood up and exited. Walking down the street, he contemplated the cracks in the sidewalk as he passed them. Chances were that he would never find out who killed his uncle, much less ever be able to exact revenge on them. As for the torture he thought up, well he had always been told he had a dark mind. It was what made him a good horror novelist.
What he didn't understand was why the assassins had killed his uncle. His uncle had always been a kind man. When he was little he had always brought him and his siblings chocolate and took them to the Zoo. When he had decided to change careers from a paramedic to a novelist, his uncle had been the only one who had encouraged him. He had always listened to him and gave him good advice.
He was nearing the place now. He pulled out a slip of paper and checked the address. The Koneko no Sumu Ie should be around here somewhere. There it was.
Inside the shop was somewhat crowded, but the arrangements looked fresh and pretty. He could see why this shop would be well recommended. Finding a clerk, he placed his order, carefully detailing what he wanted the arrangement to look like. He already had a clear idea of what he wanted the arrangement to be, he just needed them to make it. It was the least he could do.
When he was finished the tall, quiet clerk did a few calculations and then named a price. He nodded and paid the amount.
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How did he end up in this situation again? It had been months since his uncle's funeral. One of his uncle's old business associates, who also was an official at a publishing company, had asked him to come visit for a weekend to discuss a new book series.
Now, the situation was chaos. All he knew was someone was attacking and people were dying. Was he going to end up like his uncle? Killed by a cold ruthless assassin who could care less about you other than how much your death was worth?
He huddled in a corner of a room, clutching the gun he had taken from a fallen security guard. He just hoped that the assassins would pass him by. His death couldn't be worth any money could it? Please don't let them find me...pleasedontletthemfindme...
There was a shadow in the doorway. That was no security guard.
His eyes grew wide as the shadowy form of what he was sure was an assassin came into the room. It was no use, he was going to die, he was sure of it. There was no way he could win in a fight. He had never taken any form of martial art. He was a bad shot. He wasn't even very athletic. He had only one chance. If he fired first.
He held the gun in shaky hands... and fired.
The assassin's body jerked as the bullet tore through him, his face more one of surprise than of pain. He fell to the ground, clutching his chest where the bullet hit.
Still holding the gun, he stepped forward. The bullet hit the assassin right above the heart. The way the wound was bleeding, a major artery had been hit. The artery that carries a third of the blood in the body. It would take only three heartbeats to bleed to death.
The assassin was a teenager, and looked nothing like the cold ruthless man he had envisioned. His blue green eyes were wide, his face still one more of shock than of pain. He would die too quickly for that. Despite the fact that the boy probably would have killed him given the chance, he was glad that the boy wouldn't suffer.
One.
Why would a kid become an assassin? The boy's fingers were becoming lax where they clutched at his brown jacket, useless against the bloody red geyser.
Two.
What could have driven him to voluntarily go out and take people's lives? To be a professional murderer? He was so young... he could have such a bright future...
Three.
He dropped the pistol, and just stared at the dead boy for a moment.
Then he ran.
End
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A/N- Please don't hate me for the ending. I picked Ken because he was the least assasin looking one of the bunch not counting Omi.